Chapter 125
Chapter 125
Through Fusheng Duan’s repeated probing, they finally figured out the extent to which Shengsheng Zhou’s memories had been altered.
By the time A-Pang finished summarizing, he was thoroughly speechless.
Shengsheng’s public identity was the fiancée of City Lord Jierge. In secret, however, she was the Divine Envoy planted beside Jierge to help the High Priest monitor the City Lord’s loyalty to the barbarians.
Yet according to their probing, Shengsheng actually possessed another, utterly devastating identity that could not be revealed. In her own words: the less one knew, the longer one lived.
Fusheng, meanwhile, was Shengsheng’s manservant, responsible for her food and daily needs. The two had shared a harmonious master-servant relationship for five years.
Did that premise sound familiar?
Aha. Aside from a few incorrect details, it was simply Shengsheng’s version of The Life of Fusheng Duan.
The current situation was this: As Jierge’s nominal fiancée but actual Divine Envoy, Shengsheng had accompanied him when he declared war on the Zhu Kingdom. She infiltrated this city, intending to seize control from within and collapse the Zhu Kingdom’s border defenses.
The memories were riddled with holes. First, why would the exalted Divine Envoy need to conceal her identity and remain beside Jierge? The High Priest could have found someone else for that task. Then there was the question of why a woman with a fiancé would have a male servant attend to her food and daily needs instead of a maid.
Finally, dressed in luxurious clothes and radiating nobility and power, how did he–Fusheng Duan–resemble a manservant in any way?
Had Fusheng not known the truth perfectly well, he might have suspected that Shengsheng’s false memories were a plot revision written by that third-rate author Weiqing Song.
He supported his forehead and laughed. But when he lifted his head again, no amusement remained in his eyes. They were pitch-black and filled with chilling killing intent.
A-Xuan and A-Pang, the first to sense it, instinctively moved farther away.
——
Shengsheng refused to leave, so Fusheng did not leave either. He simply stayed with her inside this “barbarian stronghold.”
When she saw him preparing to go out, Shengsheng called after him, “A-Sheng, remember–no scallions.”
Fusheng paused. She thought he was going to cook.
“As you command, my lady.” His lingering drawl hooked lightly at Shengsheng’s heart.
Muttering something, Shengsheng turned her head away.
Only A-Pang, who remained behind, heard the two words she said.
“What a tease.”
——
The small courtyard looked calm and unassuming. Inside the woodshed in one corner, a man was imprisoned.
His entire body trembled violently. His ordinary face was twisted, blood clung between his teeth, and enormous beads of sweat covered his forehead. Yet despite convulsing in agony, he continued clutching his own arm, gnawing it and swallowing the mangled flesh.
Only when he had nearly eaten his entire left arm did he finally roar, “I’ll talk, I’ll talk, I’ll talk! I’ll tell you everything!”
Flesh he had not yet swallowed fell from his mouth, making the only person standing in the room dodge aside in disgust.
That person held a handkerchief embroidered with a blue bird over his nose and mouth, his features displaying obvious impatience.
At the man’s words, the little black bird that had been standing atop his head with a sinister gaze eagerly flew back toward Fusheng. It did not dare land, however, and continued circling him.
As though emerging from a terrible nightmare, the man kept convulsing in pain. Between dry heaves, he glared venomously at Fusheng. “You… could clearly have… used the Mystic Bird to bewitch me and make me tell the truth… Why did you have to torture me like this?!”
Fusheng’s brow suddenly relaxed. His bewitching eyes were filled with sincerity, though his tone was rather vile. “I don’t like forcing people to do things against their will.”
The man looked at him as though staring at an evil spirit that had just crawled out of hell.
Under Fusheng Duan’s increasingly impatient gaze, the man began explaining in fits and starts. “We found the water source used by the residents of Dazhang City and planted gu inside it… When the mother gu encountered water…”
Fusheng interrupted coldly, “If you enjoy spouting nonsense so much, I can send you straight to the underworld to continue.”
The man shuddered. “N-No! Everyone in this city is now living dead! Living dead!”
Fusheng remained unmoved. “A-Xuan.”
Obeying the command, the Mystic Bird immediately flew toward the man.
His tongue nearly tied itself in terror, but inspiration flashed through his mind. “Shengsheng Zhou! This is about Shengsheng Zhou, isn’t it?! Our City Lord personally did this to her! You can’t forcibly awaken her original memories! The antidote is with the City Lord! I don’t know anything else!”
The Mystic Bird stopped, then flew back to Fusheng.
After hearing the explanation, Fusheng did not move. He lowered his eyes as though contemplating something.
While sighing in relief, the man inwardly concluded that Fusheng truly was cold to the bone.
Would an ordinary person not first ask what had happened to the people in the city and how to save them?
Yet this man had cared about that woman first.
He was right. Fusheng’s indifference was indeed carved into his bones, but that did not mean he lacked curiosity.
There was only one explanation–
Fusheng already knew the townspeople had been poisoned with gu, so he did not need to hear it again.
“I understand. So resolving this matter requires finding your City Lord.” He sounded innocently enlightened.
The man nodded. Blood loss was already making him dizzy, but he could only grit his teeth and endure.
“Then where is your City Lord now?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know. A few days ago, the City Lord sent me a letter and told me to wait here for a surprise.”
Fusheng nodded. “I see.”
The man nodded frantically as well. “Look, I’ve told you everything. Could you let me–”
The moment his words fell, his field of vision suddenly began to spin. He saw his own body, gnawed into a bloody ruin.
And a pair of eyes filled with a malicious smile.
Ah. So at some point, without him even noticing, his head had fallen off…
Looking at the thoroughly dead man, Fusheng’s eyes showed a trace of weariness. He put away the small knife he had produced at some unknown point, yawned, and walked out.
Mm. He could not sleep yet.
He still had to prepare lunch for his lady, who was publicly the City Lord’s fiancée but secretly the barbarians’ Divine Envoy…
Fusheng glanced at his hands, which had never touched ordinary kitchen work, then at A-Xuan flying beside him. His beautiful brows knitted.
This was rather troublesome.
“A-Xuan, can you cook?”
Naturally, A-Xuan did not answer. It was only a bird. Why did this world place so many unreasonable demands upon it?
Looking at the table of dishes complete in color, fragrance, and flavor, Shengsheng’s expression did not change at all, as though A-Sheng’s cooking should naturally be this excellent.
Fusheng’s head kept nodding with drowsiness, and he had no appetite whatsoever for the food packed from a restaurant.
Crooking a finger, he tapped the tabletop lightly and asked languidly, “My lady, may I take an afternoon nap?”
Shengsheng nodded. She did not understand why her manservant seemed like an entirely different person after arriving in the Central Plains, but as a good mistress, she magnanimously granted permission.
The man across from her stood. Even while yawning, his movements remained elegant, carrying an indescribably languid nobility.
“But my lady, I can’t fall asleep unless I’m holding something.”
Shengsheng had just shoveled a mouthful of rice between her lips when her right shoulder sank. At some point, the man had moved behind her and rested his head there, his autumn-water eyes watching her with a smile.